


The Spark

by Suphomie



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Cabin, Captivity, Chores, M/M, Magic, Magic!Stiles, Protective!Derek, strange sexual relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suphomie/pseuds/Suphomie
Summary: Stiles legs feel weak as he sprints through the thick woods full of pine trees and dirt. And that's all. No lights, no paths, no signs of life besides Stiles', squirrels and owls. Oh, and also the monster chasing close behind him.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles legs feel weak as he sprints through the dark, thick woods full of pine trees and dirt. And that's all. No lights, no paths, no signs of life besides Stiles', squirrels and owls. Oh, and also the monster chasing close behind him.

Stiles is running one minute, then the next his face hits the ground with a thud. He picks his head up, rubbing the dirt off his face.

Stiles whips his head around, when he hears a twig snap. The monster- also known as Peter- is standing above him, five feet away. 

"You're getting faster," Peter says casually, "you almost got three feet further than last time."

Stiles frowns. He brings himself to his feet, and dusts himself off. "Maybe you're getting old," he snarls back. He takes a step backwards.

"Don't even _think_ about running again. I'll catch you, and you will not like me when I do."

"You brag about catching me like I'm some track star. You're a werewolf. It's not a fair chase and you know it," he sasses. 

Peter smirks. "Forgive me if I'm not making this fair for you," he tilts his head, "but I didn't want you to run in the first place."

Stiles grumbles, taking another step back. "Come," Peter says, holding an arm out.

"No," Stiles says loudly, viciously, like a caged animal lashing out at their captor. 

Peter narrows his blue eyes. "Oh, _please_ ," Peter says, "do you honestly believe that you'll ever find a way out of these woods? They go on for miles. You'll be eaten by a bear in an hour."

"Better than being with you," Stiles says back. 

"Stiles, darling," Peter presses on, taking a step foward, "Come-"

"No!" Stiles yells back, putting his hands up. Peter is suddenly pushed back by the air. Only a bit, and he stumbles, but catches himself before he falls. Stiles' eyes widen, and his fingertips feel tingly. 

Peter stance straightens, and he brushes off his coat. He looks at Stiles with not anger, as he suspects, but almost- fondness.

Peter steps up to him, and grabs Stiles by one arm. And suddenly Stiles is hoisted up, and being carried over Peter's one shoulder.

"Ahh," Stiles cries out in surprise. His hands grip the back of Stiles black jacket. "Put me down!" He yells, kicking his legs.

"Calm down, will you?" Peter says, beginning his walk back to the house, "throwing a tantrum isn't going to make me put you down."

"Tantrum," Stiles mutters, letting out a huff of breath, "I bet you'd like that, pervert."

Peter huffs out a dark chuckle. "You're seventeen, and very mature for your age."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Doesn't change the fact that you're like- a hundred."

Peter shakes his head. He puts Stiles' down on front of the door to the cabin. Stiles stumbles a bit, holding his head, dizzy. "39," Peter says back, opening the door. He pushes Stiles inside.

-

Stiles wakes up in his bed, surrounded by blankets. Sometimes he wakes up with Peter at his back, nuzzling up against his neck. Today's not one of those days, thankfully..

Stiles sits up in bed, and yawns. He de-tangles himself from the bedding and leaves the room, entering the occupied livingroom.

Peter is sitting on the couch, book in his hands. He doesn't look at Stiles, but says, "look who's decided to grace me with their presence."

Stiles yawns again, and sits in the chair across from the couch. Peter flips a page in his book.

Stiles bites his lower lip. Never once has he ran, then woke up the next day able to walk, or even sit without pain. Something weird here. Peter looks up at him, and narrows his eyes confusedly. "What?" He asks.

"Why aren't you angry with me?" He asks.

"Would you like me to be?" Peter asks, a smirk on his face. Stiles rolls his eyes. "I think it's been far too long since you've had a nice spanking."

"Peter," he says with an exasperated tone, "you know what I'm asking. Why aren't you mad, you're always mad when I do anything you don't like."

Peter sighs at the nagging, lowering his book onto his lap. "I'm not mad at all. I'm _proud_."

Stiles cocks his head to the side. "Proud? Of what? That I got three feet farther than usual?"

Peter shakes his head. "No, you moron. You used your powers."

Stiles' face falls. "Huh?" He asks, confused.

"You used your abilities," Peter repeats, "a very low form. But it was something. I think that all your research is finally paying off."

Stiles squints his eyes. "The wind pushed you."

Peter lets out a smug laugh. "Lie to yourself all you want. You pushed me. And you're lucky you did, because I would have had to punish you for running."

Stiles huffs. "Now go and do your chores, then finish the spell book I gave you." Stiles huffs louder this time. "Don't throw a fit, just do it."

"And why do I have to do chores?" Stiles asks, standing, walking over to the kitchen to start cleaning the oven.

"Discipline, darling," Peter says, "you'll thank me when you can't control your powers later on."

Stiles rolls his eyes. 

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was in my drafts, hope you like it, I know it’s been a while!! Let me know if you enjoyed this!

Stiles walks to the shed twenty feet from the house, leaves crunching under his work boots. He grabs a rake, and then starts to rake the falling autumn leaves into his already big pile.

He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes as he works. This is not the way he imagined his senior year going. One day he was st school, hanging out with Scott,,and the next he was here. Wherever here is. Somewhere in Oregon he presumes, but somewhere completely away from any civilization.

With Peter.

Of all people, it just had to be him, right? He said he wanted to help Stiles harness his powers, but here's the thing- Stiles doesn't have any powers. 

So here he is, doing every single chore Peters fucked up brain can conjure up, every single day. Learning control for powers he'll never have.

The sound of a car pulling up causes him to look to the dirt drive way. When he notices it’s Derek's car a smile curves along Stiles' chapped lips.

Derek leaves the car and starts unloading brown paper grocery bags. "Hey!" Stiles calls, dropping his rake, and walking over. Derek only grunts in way of greeting, walking past him into the house.

Stiles grabs a few bags, and follows him in.

Derek comes once a week, to drop off groceries. It's the only time that Stiles gets human contact from anyone other than Peter. It's the best day of the week.

Stiles drops the bags down onto the kitchen counter and watches Derek do the same. Peter appears in the doorway and shoots Derek a smirk. “Ah, decided to grace us with your prescense again, dear nephew?”

Derek shoots him a glare. Stiles doesn’t think Derek likes Peter very much. He shows his disdain and disaproval at keeping Stiles here against his will whenever he has the chance, though he doesn’t say much about it and he still helps him. Probably just because he’s his nephew, though they’re about as different as two people can possibly be.

Maybe it has something to do with Peter being Derek’s alpha. Stiles is trying to wrap his head around the whole werewolf thing and how it works after Peter introduced him to it so many months ago, but he does know Peter’s an alpha and Derek’s his only beta. Maybe that makes him _have_ to listen to Peter.

“Stiles, darling, go get the rest of the bags,” Peter commands, eyes fixed carefully on Derek still. Stiles does as he’s told, but notices the way Derek cringes at the nickname.

When Stiles comes back inside, several bags in his arms, Peter is gone and Derek is putting the food away. Stiles places the rest of the bags on the table and starts stacking food into the fridge. “I tried to run away again last night.” He says to Derek after a few moments of silence.

Derek looks him up and down, as if checking him for injuries that usually follow Stiles disobeying Peter, before continuing to stock the cabinets. 

“Peter wasn’t mad. He said I used my powers, whatever the hell that means. He’s insane.” Stiles continues. 

Derek grunts again in agreement. Stiles likes having someone to complain about stuff to, and Derek seems to understand. At first all Stiles would do was beg him to get him out of here, to call his dad or the police or anyone that could possibly help. But Derek would just stop talking to him all together when he did that, so Stiles keeps it to complaing about Peter and takes what he can get.

When the groceries are packed away, Derek walks over to him and hands him a box of granola bars and says, “Don’t let him see these.”

Stiles takes the box, but doesn’t tell Derek that Peter isn’t starving him, that he’s allowed to eat the food in the kitchen without having to hide away his own food. He still appreciates Derek thinking about him, worrying about him. He’s emotionally constipated, but he’s kind all the same in his own little ways.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, flashing Derek a small smile. Derek doesn’t smile back, but he does nod his head curtly, which for Derek is basically the same thing. 

“Leaving already?” Peter asks in the doorway, back again. 

Derek backs away from Stiles and nods without looking at Peter. “Don’t be a stranger,” Peter says with another smirk.

Derek doesn’t respond but does get an angry look on his face. “I’ll be back next week.” He says gruffly, voice reluctant. Stiles wonders what he does when he’s not helping Peter. 

Derek leaves without another word and Stiles watches his car drive away sadly. Sometimes he wishes Derek would take him with him. A part of him hopes Derek wishes that too.

“You still have chores to do,” Peter reminds him. Stiles turns to look at him. “Discipline, remember?”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “ _Discipline_ ,” he repeats, “you know all this _discipline_ is wasting both of our time, right? I don’t have powers.”

“You can live in your little fantasy all you want. You’ll learn eventually.” Peter says casually as he walks into the livingroom. 

Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath and leans against the counter behind him. Peter shouldn’t hold his breath on that. Soon he’ll realize that bringing Stiles here was a mistake, that Stiles doesn’t have any powers. _At least that’s what Stiles hopes. But the more he thinks about last night, about the tingling in his fingers, he probably shouldn’t hold his breath on that either._

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed! All feedback is appreciated.


End file.
